


Morning Routine

by HogwartsToAlexandria



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space Gladiators, Close Quarters, Intimacy, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Shaving, Straight Razors, Think Grandmaster-style Arena, bunk beds, flangst, sharing a cell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29827128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/pseuds/HogwartsToAlexandria
Summary: Rocket takes care of Thor's beard so he looks every inch the Northern Fighter his combat name lets on. Every morning is the same, except maybe for all that stays unsaid, and for what fills the silences.
Relationships: Rocket Raccoon/Thor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Morning Routine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elpollodiablo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elpollodiablo/gifts).



> 💙💙

The arena is huge, and people are so loud Rocket could scream. He just wants to stay in his bunk, and more importantly, he wants to sleep knowing Thor is right under him in his own bed. He wants to pass out, for once, without keeping an eye and an ear open, waiting to hear the heavy footsteps of the guard with the terrible boots and the metallic slide of the door opening. He wants to sleep, and yet it's morning. He knows. There's all those sounds from the kitchens and the other cells and the audience is already starting to file back in. 

They might as well stay in their seats from one day to the next, it's always the same sadists coming to pop snacks in their traps while they fight and bleed.

Rocket isn't on today's roster. He isn't on many of them. He's small, and he can't really have guns here so his ability to kick ass is limited, even he can admit that. 

Thor is though, so when the guard rattles the door, hitting it with his shoulder like he does every door, Rocket is up and jumping off his bed before he can even think it through. Thor blinks at him, his left eye's still black and blue, but he smiles. 

"Happy to see me, Rabbit?" 

Rocket huffs, but he lets the nickname slide. It's been a while, he's over it. It's still annoying, a hundred percent. Nothing in him likes it at all. 

"Shut up and get up." 

"Helping?" 

"You know I am." Rocket climbs onto Thor's bunk. It's a hard fit, even as small as he is and even with Thor sitting up. He ends up standing on the guy's pillow every time but who cares. 

"Grab the stuff." 

"Hm what?" Thor startles, and Rocket rolls his eyes. 

"The hair stuff, stupid." 

Rocket does not stare at Thor's back as he bends to retrieve what little hygiene items they have from under his bunk. He doesn't stare but he does note and appreciate the way the muscles bend and bump as he moves. Boy's got a back as big as the bed, of course Rocket's looking. 

"Here." Thor clumsily hands the box over, and Rocket jams it between the wall and his feet. 

He doesn't have to search for long before he finds the cream, they don't have the fancy brush that goes with it but that's fine — it's not like they're pretending this hole is a spa or anything — and the small towel is all dried up and hanging from the boards of Rocket's bunk. He yanks it free and taps Thor's shoulder. 

"Tip back." 

He carefully places the towel around Thor's neck while Thor keeps his hair out of the way, and they're all set to start. 

No matter how much noise there is outside their door, no matter the agitation, it's always really quiet when they do this. It's quiet and the very act of starting to lather the shaving cream onto Thor's neck and cheeks is soothing. It means Rocket's fur gets all matted with it too but who cares. Thor's head is tilted back and practically resting against Rocket's chest, although not completely or he would have trouble doing anything under the weight of it, and it gives him a nice view of his face, and how Thor looks when his eye is closed and he trusts him to go on. He  _ trusts _ him, that's the best part of their morning routine. It's a hard-won, yet slowly fought for victory. It's not like they talked about it or anything, it just happened over the course of weeks, months even, since they were flung in here together. 

"Starting now, sweet Rabbit?" 

Rocket grumbles to himself but he has to take a second to stop feeling ridiculous about the addition of the endearment. 

The razor is easy to find with its gleaming blade peeking from dull, brown leather. Rocket grabs it without much care needed, habit does the security check, and he opens it. Looking at that thing is kind of fascinating, and watching it, guided by his own hand, as it slides over Thor's cheek is another spectacle entirely. 

It gathers the cream and lifts the stubble off Thor's skin, forming white lumps all along the blade and leaving Thor smooth and clean, if not for the little shine the product leaves behind. 

He keeps going. One cheek, down to about an inch of Thor's jaw. And then the other. Tidy. Drawn. Sculpted. All along, all Thor does is breathe, and keep his eye closed, and sometimes forget that his head is too heavy for Rocket's shoulder especially when the corresponding hand is meant to wield the razor. 

The one moment where Thor does get to completely relax his neck, and Rocket grits his teeth to make it work, is just now — when it's time to shave off the hair on his neck. Rocket puts his free hand on Thor's forehead and tilts it back fully, and keeps it there for balance. He doesn't think about how vulnerable Thor is right now, or how it's crazy that his hands are still steady. He thinks about the blade in his hand and leans over to start anew. Every day the same, every day this moment where he holds his breath as the blade swooshes gently along Thor's neck, and exhales only when he wipes it off on the towel. Then repeats the motion, again and again. 

The entire time Thor stays very still. He's not sleeping, Rocket can always tell when he's sleeping and this isn't it, but he's so still he might as well be. He breathes so quietly, so carefully that he barely moves as he does so, and it's only when Rocket slides his hand to Thor's chin to find better angles that he feels it — the way his pulse is thundering in his veins, the way the air he takes is hardly enough for a guy this big even at rest and it makes something churn in his stomach, something warm up inside him that makes it harder to focus on his task. He does it though. He finishes shaving Thor's neck with as much care as he always does, the towel wet everywhere the cream soaked into it but dry enough in places that Rocket can wipe his hands there too and put the razor away. 

This part is awkward, but it's Rocket's favorite anyway. 

He closes the box and steps past it, between the wall and Thor's side, so that he can stand above the guy's thighs and face him. Thor's eye flickers open, and he's smiling, and it's hard to ignore him as Rocket wipes the last traces of the shaving from his face. He finds a bottle of water in a corner and uses it to wet a clean corner of the towel, then dabs it over what remains of Thor's beard, cleaning the beads until they shine. He glances up to see Thor still smiling and looking at him and that damn blue eye is too soft. All he wants is to look away, the same way he does every day, but he finds that he can't. Not this time. 

Rocket meets Thor's gaze, all blue eye and dark leather patch, "Whatcha looking at?" 

"You." Thor shrugs, dislodging Rocket's hands from his beard as he does. 

"Ain't nothing to look at." 

Thor's smile gets bigger somehow and he whispers with that same tone he uses when he goes on those long tangents at night and Rocket nods along to humor him, "I disagree with this sentiment." And then he laughs, and adds, "And you have something, right here." 

Rocket's widen as Thor's hand threads through the hair at his neck, and pets back and forth. 

"Shaving cream." Is all Rocket can think to say, pretty sure it's Thor's turn to feel how his pulse just spiked. 

"Thank you dear Rocket." Is all Thor says in response, but his hand hasn't moved, and Rocket's slid into the god's long hair, and they stay like this for a while. 

It's stupid, but Rocket feels good here. He doesn't want to move, doesn't want to get on with this day, which will just be the same as the day before, which will be the same as the next. The only differences they get are what injuries Thor comes back with depending on who he's made to fight, and Rocket cannot really be grateful for that kind of variety now, can he?

In the end, Rocket just clears his throat, moves away from Thor as much as he can in such a cramped space and rubs his neck. "Ask the guard for more supplies when you get out, we're almost out." 

Maybe the spot he's rubbing is the exact one Thor touched and maybe it's obvious to them both, but neither says anything about it or about anything else for that matter. Rocket eventually sits with his legs thrown over the side of the bunk and Thor's thigh against his lower back, and they keep quiet, waiting for the guard to say it's time once more, together. 

There's a hard knock again, and this time the door does slide open, creaking at every inch. 

Thor sighs, and Rocket tenses. Thor squeezes Rocket's hand and Rocket looks up again. "I'll be here." He says, and Thor nods. 

"I know you will, and this knowledge alone makes going through this door an easier process." 

Rocket laughs, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Why do you gotta be so solemn every time?" 

Thor finally gets up, puts on his chest and shoulder plates and steps towards the door. 

"Why else but to hear you laugh, sweet Rabbit? Why else?" And then he's gone, and Rocket feels funny — at least he's alone to sort through this nonsense now.

He stays put, sitting on Thor's sheets until it gets boring, and he gets too tired to stay in this position. Climbing back up to his own bunk seems like too much effort so he just sort of rolls on his side and buries his face in Thor's pillow. There. That's better. 

He means to stay awake and wait. He falls asleep instead. Whatever.


End file.
